


How It Began

by tellmealovestory



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Romance, Sweet, cuteness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:29:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22055581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tellmealovestory/pseuds/tellmealovestory
Summary: Helping you move Bucky stumbles upon something curious and learns more about you.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 8
Kudos: 63





	How It Began

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for ussgallifreyfics 550 followers writing challenge on tumblr and the prompt that I chose was Bouquet.

"Shit,” Bucky grumbled to himself as he watched helplessly as a pile of books tumbled from your bookshelf landing in a pile in front of him with a loud crash.

Sighing he crouched down, his hands sifting through heavy dictionaries, lightweight paperbacks and a handful of what looked like journals, each one with a different plain colored cover. His eyes drifted towards a light blue one which had landed on it’s spine, pages splayed open. He knew that he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help himself.

Glancing up to your bedroom doorway he sighed in relief when he didn’t see you, his fingers inched forward, picking up the journal as he glanced through the pages.

It was wrong, he knew that, invading your privacy like this and though he knew if he saw anything written in it he’d place it back and come clean, but as he flipped through the journal he was surprised not to see words overflowing, but what looked like flowers pressed against the cream colored pages.

His eyebrows knitted, the tip of his fingers brushing over them, his eyes glancing to see dates and one or two words, sometimes little doodles covering the pages. Flipping through the journal he saw each page was the same, flowers, dates, words, doodles. Closing it he set it down, his fingers reaching for another one even as warning bells were ringing in his head telling him this was an invasion of privacy, a bad idea. The next journal he picked up had a pale green cover and was filled with the same thing. 

“What are you doing?” 

Bucky jumped at the sound of your voice. Had he not been so busy looking through your journals he might have heard the sound of your footsteps, smelled the faint scent of your perfume, heard your voice before it was too late. He might have even found the situation comical, but being caught red handed like this he swallowed, closing the journal and placing it on the floor. He couldn’t quite read your expression, your face was blank, but your shoulders were tense, your eyes flickering between the mess he had made on the floor and the journal that he had set down next to him.

“I can explain,” he started, watching as you crossed your arms over your chest. “I’m sorry. I was trying to help you pack and your books fell and then one landed open and I got curious and I started looking through it and... fuck, _I’m sorry.”_ He swallowed the lump in his throat, his eyes staying steady on yours as he watched. 

“When I agreed to move in with you that didn’t mean you could go through my stuff when you helped me move,” you said, stepping into your bedroom and moving aside the books to sit down next to him.

“I know.”

Glancing over at you he wasn’t sure what to think. Your expression was still blank as your eyes stayed locked on the mess he had made. Usually he was able to read you better than this and he felt a wave of guilt wash over him for invading your privacy. “’M really sorry, Y/N. Your books fell and then one landed open and I got-.”

“It’s okay,” you said with a shrug of your shoulder. You weren’t mad, a little embarrassed maybe, but not mad. “Did you find anything interesting?”

Raising his eyebrows Bucky was taken aback by your question unsure of how to answer you. 

“What are these?” he asked, gesturing to the journals that littered your bedroom floor. He could hear you sigh next to him and for a brief moment he wondered if he was pushing you by asking you that. After all he had been the one to invade your privacy and if you had wanted to tell him he was sure you would have. 

“Dried flowers,” you replied, shrugging your shoulders as if the answer was obvious.

Lifting your gaze up to him you debated with yourself if you should explain. On the one hand he _had_ invaded your privacy, but on the other hand it wasn’t that big of a deal. You knew that a lot of people kept mementos of things that were important to them, this was no different. 

Bucky could sense you were hesitant to explain and he felt even more guilt about invading your privacy. Nudging your shoulder with his he said, “Come on, I’ll clean this up and we can get back to packing your stuff up.” 

“Bucky, it’s okay, I want to explain, just... promise not to make fun of me?”

“I would never make fun of you, doll,” he said, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. Part of him was offended that you would even think he’d make fun of you for something that obviously meant a lot to you. He could feel you relaxing as you leaned against his side and he wrapped his arms around your shoulder, pulling you closer.

“When I was a kid my mom used to love flowers I think that’s where I got my love for them. And anytime she’d pick some from her garden or buy herself a bouquet before they died she’d press them into a book to save them. I never understood why, you know? I always thought they’re just flowers. When they die you can pick more or get yourself another bouquet, something prettier than the last one. And even though I thought they were pretty when they were dried and I liked the idea of saving them I still didn’t get the appeal of it. Not until... well, do you remember our first date? When you arrived way earlier than we agreed on with a bouquet of daises?” you asked, glancing up at him. 

“I thought we agreed not to bring that date up again?” he asked, groaning next to you which earned him a soft giggle from you.

“I know, I know, we agreed never to speak of it again, but come on, if it wasn’t for that disaster of a date we wouldn’t be where we are right now.” 

Bucky thought phrasing it as a disaster of a date was putting it mildly. When he had asked you out he had been so nervous, convinced that you would say no, that you weren’t interested that when you _had_ said yes he was shocked, shocked and terrified at the thought that he was going to have to go through with this. It had been a long time since he had gone on a date and he was no longer that suave, ladies man he had been in the forties that Steve used to tell him about.

When the night of the date approached he was such a nervous wreck he had asked Steve multiple times if he could cancel. When Steve had said no he resorted to begging him to come along. And when Steve said no to _that_ because it would be weird with him there as a third wheel he had suggested he bring Natasha along, a double date, less weird. But still, Steve said no, which left Bucky with sweaty palms and nerves so bad he was sure he was going to pass out despite Steve convincing him he was going to be okay.

Wanting to make a good first impression he had left so early in his nervousness that when he arrived at your apartment he was over a half hour early. Standing outside with a bouquet of flowers had been fine for a couple of minutes, but he couldn’t help noticing the curious looks he received from people passing him.

No stranger to people staring he went up to your apartment early and when he knocked on your door he could see he had caught you off guard. He had all but thrown the flowers in your hand, wanting nothing more than bail right there and head back to Steve. But when he watched your eyes light up at the flowers, when he watched you so delicately bring them up to your nose inhaling the sweet scent, when he watched you place them so gently down on the counter as if they would break while you got a vase and filled it with water placing the flowers in there only to take _another_ inhale, your eyes lighting up again, a smile gracing your perfect lips he was a goner.

He could tell you were nervous too and when you opened the door for him he could smell the roast chicken and vegetables. It was only after you had invited him in, after the two of you had sat down on your couch and started up a conversation that he had begun to relax slightly. You were easy to talk to and he had liked that about you, getting lost in conversation he had thought maybe this night would turn out okay. Until he saw the smoke and smelled something burning. 

Dinner had been ruined beyond repair. You had been so embarrassed you couldn’t even look at him, but Bucky took it in stride suggesting a diner he knew about a couple blocks over. The food was good and maybe he could somehow salvage the disaster of a first date. The walk over had been smooth with no problems. The fresh spring air seemed to soothe both of your nerves as the conversation slowly flowed, your fingers brushing up against one another every couple of minutes, but each of you had been too nervous to reach for the others hand. 

The diner wasn’t crowed which Bucky appreciated, still nervous around big crowds and as he led you to a booth near the back that offered you some privacy he had thought to himself he could do this. First dates weren’t so bad, there was nothing to be nervous about. That was until the waitress had placed your drinks down on the table and Bucky had spilled yours all over you and your dress.

You had assured him it was okay and when you left to go to the bathroom to try and dab out the stain he had called Steve in a panic _begging_ him to pick him up, to show up with Natasha or even Sam, to rescue him. Unbeknownst to him when you had left to go to the bathroom you had called Natasha in a panic, begging _her_ to come pick you up, to make up some emergency that you needed to attend to. What neither of you knew once you hung up the phone was that each of you had called your best friend, something that you wouldn’t be revealed until many, many dates later. 

When you arrived back at the table your dress a little wet from the spilled drink the conversation was awkward to say the least. Both of you speaking at once before pausing and telling the other to no, go ahead first. It was that, that awkwardness that had finally pulled a laugh out of each of you and allowed you two relax, if only a little.

Dinner had been good, the conversation ebbing and flowing as each of you began to open up just a little bit. On the walk home Bucky took you the long way back, wanting to spend a little bit more time with you. It was on that walk home that he finally reached for your hand, your fingers intertwining with his as if you had been made for him.

When you had arrived back at your apartment he paused, wanting to kiss you, but unsure if you wanted to, unsure if he should given the disaster of the date. Pausing at your door each of you stood their awkwardly, not knowing what to say or do. When he felt your lips brush across his cheek he couldn’t help the sight blush that covered his cheeks before he stuttered out a murmured reply of how he had fun tonight and would you maybe wanna do this again? his words coming out so quickly they sounded like one long word. Surprise had been written across his features when he watched you nod your head yes, a small smile curving up your beautiful lips. 

“Even though the date was a disaster you decided to keep the flowers?” he asked, coming out of his thoughts, his eyebrows knitted as he looked down at you shaking your head no.

“Not at first. I kept the flowers because I love flowers and the bouquet was beautiful. It wasn’t until our second date that I decided to start pressing the flowers into journals so I’d always have memories.”

The second date had gone a lot better. Bucky had taken you to a farmers market where he bought you a beautiful bouquet of sunflowers as he searched for the ripest and brightest fruits and vegetables. After you had burned dinner during the first date he had promised to cook for you, teasing you that he’d show you how you were _supposed_ to cook dinner.

The third date arrived with another bouquet, this one full of brightly colored purple and pink and yellow and blue and orange wildflowers that had taken your breath away. 

Each date, another new bouquet and another page of a journal to fill, but it wasn’t only dates that Bucky gifted you with bouquets. Sometimes it would be because he knew you’d had a bad and day and had wanted to cheer you up. Other times it was simply because he had been out, saw some flowers, knew you would like them and got them for you. 

Not every bouquet he brought was a happy occasion though. There was the time you two had gotten in a fight. Coming home from a bad mission bruised and bloody and when you had tried to get him to talk to you he had pushed you away, refusing to talk, trying to convince you that you were better off without him. It was only when Steve told him he was being an idiot and once he had cooled off did he show up at your apartment, a bouquet of daisies, your favorite, an embarrassed gleam in his eye, his feet shuffling back and forth, apologies tumbling from his lips. It was that day that he had finally begun to open up to you and it was the day that your relationship grew stronger.

There was also the time he had promised you he’d be back in time for your birthday, but when a mission had run long and he didn’t get home until a week after your day he had showered you with bouquets, daisies again, to make it up for it. 

And of course there were the countless times during the summer on a hot day that would turn into a muggy night when there was nothing better to do and you were itching to get out and do something the two of you would take a drive upstate, stopping at far away diners in towns that time had all but forgotten. Pulling over on the side of the road when he spotted wildflowers growing in ditches he’d stop the car getting out and pick you bouquets as you picked your own flowers to put behind your ear.

“I know it’s kind of... cheesy, but I don’t know. I guess I just always wanted to have memories of our dates. Even the really really bad ones,” you teased, breaking him out of his memories as you glanced up at him through your lashes.

“It’s not cheesy,” Bucky assured you. He wasn’t going to say it out loud, but he kinda liked the idea, liked the idea that someday when you guys were older and had kids and grandkids that you’d have journals filled with memories of all the bouquets he had bought you, stories to tell your friends and families. While the flowers wouldn’t last forever, even if they were dried, the dates and doodles would. A forever memory of your love story, all the good, all the bad, all of you two. 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think!


End file.
